


About Last Night...

by AreYouSittingComfortably



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Awkwardness, Episode: s01e09 Knight Takes Queen, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Sex Pollen, Sexual Content, Teasing, Voyeurism, threesome (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouSittingComfortably/pseuds/AreYouSittingComfortably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take on the love scene at the convent in S01E09 Knight Takes Queen. Aramis and Athos have escorted the Queen to her bed chamber. Everything's fine... until it isn't, and things get a little out of hand. Essentially a spin on the sex pollen / love potion trope. Everything before and after takes place as canon, but I had to take a few liberties with the original dialogue. Aramis and Anne can’t keep their hands off each other and Athos has to take care of himself... with some slightly disconcerting help from Aramis. One shot in response to a request for Annamis sex. Somehow Athos got involved (sorry). More romantic than it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Last Night...

It hit them all at different times.

Athos was the first to feel it.

One minute he was discussing their plans for defence with Aramis as they escorted the Queen to her room after a simple supper with the nuns, the next minute, he was leaning against the wall of her chamber with a serious ache in his groin, wondering what on earth was going on. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but to no avail.

He turned to look at Aramis, who was standing in front of the Queen, looking a bit dazed and swaying slightly. Oh God, not him too?

To his horror, he realised the Queen was not immune either. She’d slipped off her shoes and was standing barefoot beside her bed looking up at Aramis with what Athos could only describe as undisguised lust. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was not happening!

Athos groaned as the throbbing in his groin increased, and Aramis dragged his gaze away from the Queen for a moment to look at him curiously. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sounding strange and sleepy, like he’d just woken up from a very good dream.

“Urgh.” Athos growled, unable to answer coherently as his hand moved unconsciously to the bulge in his pants.

“I’d like to go to bed now.” the Queen said shakily, looking at Aramis.

“Good idea… Majesty.” Athos managed. “Come on ‘Mis.”

“No.” Anne said very slowly, looking pointedly at Aramis, “I mean, I’d like to go to bed with him.”

“Your Majesty…” Athos protested, shocked.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Aramis began, even though it suddenly seemed to him like a very, very good idea. He tried to tear his gaze off Anne, but found himself unable to look away. God she was beautiful, her simple dress setting off her classic beauty more perfectly than the finest court attire. And her golden brown hair, loose in waves around her shoulders, oh, how he longed to feel it brush against his chest as she leaned over him... no! He did not just imagine Anne straddling him on the bed while he moved inside her. No! Aramis shook his head violently, trying to shake the image of Anne naked out of it. It was treason. It was a terrible idea.

Wasn’t it?

“Aramis,” Anne crept closer to him, “I want you to… I want…” Anne didn’t know how to say what she wanted. She looked up at him, the candlelight flickering on his face, his dark eyes regarding her with a mixture of fear, awe, and lust “I want you.” she finished simply.

Aramis let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding with a hiss as she reached up to place a hand on his arm. His skin caught fire where she touched him, and he moaned softly as he felt himself grow hard.

“This is not a good idea.” he tried again, but the Queen’s hands were unbuckling the belt with his weapons, and his mouth was dry. He unconsciously licked his lips, imagining sliding his hands up beneath her dress.

“Your Majesty,” Athos panted, trying hard not to watch what was unfurling before him but finding himself unable to look away. “Please, this is treason. Don’t ask him to…”

But it was no good. The lust had taken hold of all of them, and Aramis had the Queen in his arms and was kissing her like his very life depended on it. Athos groaned and sank to the floor, leaning his head against the cool stone of the wall, hoping for salvation, but none came. He could no longer ignore the throbbing of his groin, and unlaced his pants and began to stroke himself.

The Queen pulled Aramis’s shirt over his head, and he dropped to his knees in front of her, pulling her towards him, his hands slowly lifting the hem of her skirt up. So slowly, it felt like a kind of torture to her. His fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and her breath hitched. Aramis smiled up at her and leaned forward to ghost a kiss over her panties before slowly (so slowly!) pulling them down and planting another kiss over her bare flesh. Anne gasped and swayed, but he held her there, letting her skirts fall over his head, the silken brush of the fabric over his back a whole new heady sensation.

He kissed and licked until Anne’s breath came in gasps and he felt her legs give way, then he lifted her onto the bed, pulling off her dress in one smooth movement, and lying her out gloriously naked to his heated gaze. He bent over to kiss her on the mouth, his tongue parting her lips and flicking inside her. She could taste herself on him, and the knowledge of it made her giddy. She moaned in disappointment as Aramis’s mouth left hers, but it quickly turned to pleasure as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue around it, his fingers quickly moving to her other small but lovely breast and circling her other nipple. Anne felt a fire ignite low in her belly as he continued to suck and lick and his hand dipped down between her legs again.

Athos tried not to look at them, he really did, but his eyes were drawn back to them like a magnet, every moan of pleasure making him harder. He marvelled at his friend’s restraint. Aramis still had his pants on and was straining against them, but he continued to attend to Anne, trailing kisses down her stomach until he reached her groin. Anne cried out as his tongue flicked across her clitoris, rougher than before. Aramis hummed his approval against her skin and slipped a finger inside her as he continued to lick her. She whimpered, and tried to move beneath him but he held her firmly, licking and sucking and adding another finger.

Athos stared beneath half-closed lids, stroking himself harder, one part of his mind screaming at him to stop, the other, more insistent part, fascinated by the sight of Aramis going down on the Queen, his hands spreading her legs open and holding her still, while he drove her to distraction. He couldn’t decide who looked more beautiful, the Queen in her complete state of glorious surrender, or Aramis, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat in the candlelight, Anne’s hands twisting in his dark curls as he pleasured her.

Anne had never felt anything like this before. Louis had never done anything like this to her. Little waves of pleasure flooded through her as Aramis flicked his tongue over her clitoris and curled his fingers inside her. It was terrifying and exhilarating and she wanted more, more! She tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from Aramis, who was struggling to remain focused, his own need beginning to grow more painful.

She was close, Athos could tell by the way her breathing was uneven. He pulled at himself, closing his eyes in pleasure and groaning in relief as he came, spilling onto the floor.

Aramis raised his head and looked at Athos through a haze of lust. “Come.” he said, stretching out a hand and grabbing at his friend’s shirt. Aramis abandoned Anne for a moment, experimentally kissing Athos on the mouth. Athos inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away, suddenly grabbing at Aramis’s hair, tugging him closer and kissing him back fiercely, tasting Anne on his friend’s tongue. Aramis broke away to look back at her. Anne lay there, breathing rapidly, the look of shock on her face quickly turning to curiosity. She’d never seen two men kiss before and rather than disgust her, it intrigued her.

It was new to Athos and Aramis too, but whatever drug was in their bodies was robbing them of boundaries. It must be a drug, thought Athos, in what he hoped was a moment of clarity.

Aramis kissed him again, more slowly, his eyes fixed on Anne, watching her reaction. Athos moaned, feeling himself start to stiffen again, and pushed Aramis away. Anne reached for him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him up to her, pushing him onto his back on the bed so she could kiss him, hands fumbling to unlace his pants, so unfamiliar to her. “No,” he whispered, pulling her hands away, “I’m not done with you yet.” He moved back down her body, mouth trailing hot kisses as he went, hands untying his laces and letting his pants fall to the floor with a moan of relief as his cock sprang free of the restraint.

He began to suck and lick at Anne again, one hand fingering her open, the other starting to stroke himself. Without him holding her down this time, Anne began to writhe beneath him. She raked her nails through his hair and over his shoulders and Aramis hissed in pleasure, picking up the pace until Anne cried out, her hands stilling and her toes curling as the orgasm washed over her. Aramis slowed down, pulling his fingers out of her, and began to crawl back up her body, hovering over her. She reached up to kiss him and he brushed his fingers over her again and felt her quiver to his touch.

“Tell me what you want.” he whispered, his voice sinfully low, further fuelling Anne’s desire.

“You.” she answered, breathless and uneven, “I want you.”

Aramis needed no further encouragement. Dragging his eyes away from hers only for a moment, he sank into her with a groan of pleasure. He was too far gone to last long, but he tried to hold back, pulling out and thrusting back in as slowly as he could for as long as possible before the need to move faster overwhelmed him. Anne pulled him down to kiss her, tugging at his hair the way he loved, and he slid a hand back between them, stroking her erratically as he felt himself getting closer. It hit him hard and he came inside her with a stuttering cry, stilling for a moment before continuing to stroke her, faster and faster, until she came again, shattering around him. He collapsed on top of her, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, still joined, one hand pressed to the small of her back, holding her to him, the other tangling in her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her deeply, while their ragged breathing gradually returned to normal.

Athos closed his eyes and leant back against the bed, simultaneously grateful they’d finished and frantically chasing his second climax. Whatever it was they’d ingested wasn’t done with them yet. This was all kinds of wrong, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t get up and walk away, the desire in him was still too strong. He was close, so close, but his body refused to give him the relief he craved.

Aramis was mumbling something to Anne in Spanish between kisses. Athos had no idea what he was saying, whether it was endearments or filth, but it didn’t matter. It was the low deep murmur of Aramis’s voice that beguiled him.

“Aramis,” he begged, “French, please.” Aramis lifted his head in surprise and gazed at him oddly, taking in the sorry state of his friend. He began to speak to Athos in French, encouraging him, urging him on with dirty words. He remembered a prostitute he’d seen Athos with on a couple of occasions, describing her and what he imagined they might have done together. He remembered Ninon too, her beauty, wit, directness, and found it easy and pleasurable to describe Athos in bed with her.

Anne listened, mesmerised by the sound of his voice, closing her eyes and imagining Aramis doing those things to Ninon, imagined watching him as he fucked her. Ninon was so beautiful, and now that she knew what he looked and felt like, it was easy to imagine, and she was surprisingly turned on by the thought of it. Her hands began to wander over her own body, imagining she was Ninon and Aramis was doing those things to her. Aramis gazed at her in wonder as she touched herself. Realising the effect his words were having on her he began to describe the things he wanted to do to her too, described what it would be like if all four of them were there together. He was hard again, and aching to be inside her, but he continued to talk for Athos’s benefit until he heard his friend’s strangled groan, almost a sob, as he came again.

Aramis hurriedly turned his attention back to Anne, pinning her arms down and holding her still while he kissed her.

“No!” Anne cried, as she struggled free of his grasp, pushing him, protesting, onto his back on the bed.

“Athos, hold him.” Anne commanded.

“What?” Athos’s voice was shaky, still coming down from his high.

“Hold him still.”

“He doesn’t like taking orders.” Athos cautioned.

“I’m not giving him one, I’m giving you one.” Anne replied.

Aramis watched curiously as Athos crawled onto the bed and propped himself up against the headboard, grabbing Aramis by the shoulders, and dragging him up with him until he was half sitting, half lying, his head against Athos’s chest and his arms pinned to his sides by Athos’s arms locked around his chest. He had no idea what Anne was planning, but if she wanted him restrained he had no objections. He had even fewer objections when Anne crawled down the bed until she was kneeling between his legs.

Anne had no idea what she was doing, but what he had done to her had felt so good she wanted to return the favour. She bent forward and tentatively took him into her mouth. Aramis made a small noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a hiss and a moan, and Anne smiled around him, sucking gently on the tip of his cock until he moaned again. God, she felt good. He longed to reach forward and tangle his fingers in her hair, but Athos held him tight. A little voice in the back of his head was yelling at him to stop this, she was the Queen for heaven’s sake, she’d regret this in the morning, but the pleasure he was feeling drowned it out. He willed himself to be still, to focus only on the sensation of her mouth around him, to make it last as long as he could.

Athos wondered what the hell he was doing, enabling this treason, but he was captivated by the sight of the Queen’s head between Aramis’s legs, fascinated by the incoherent noises his friend was making and the look of sheer bliss on his face as he arched his spine and let his head fall back in pleasure. Athos leant forward and kissed him roughly on the mouth. Aramis couldn’t move even if he wanted to, not without kicking Anne, so he surrendered to it, sucking on Athos’s top lip and biting down involuntarily when Anne swirled her tongue around the tip of his penis. Athos withdrew with a hiss.

“Slow down.” he told Anne angrily.

Aramis muttered something in Spanish that sounded like a curse, and Anne lifted her head and smiled at both of them, her eyes glazed, taking in the two beautiful men at her command. She returned her attention to Aramis, but following Athos’s instruction, slowed her ministrations down until Aramis was begging and panting and murmuring filth in several languages.

“Ana!” he begged, and she thrilled to hear her name on his lips, “Ana, please!”

As Anne started to suck a little harder, move a little more deliberately, Athos could feel Aramis shaking with the effort to hold himself back, hands fisting in the sheet beneath him. He marvelled again at his friend’s sel-control, certain he wouldn’t have lasted so long himself, then as Aramis let out a desperate cry of “Athos!” suddenly realised what his friend was waiting for. He released him quickly, and Aramis grabbed at Anne’s hair, pulling her off him roughly moments before he came with a grunt into his other hand. He lay there panting, his cock in one hand, the other gratefully caressing Anne’s face as she knelt in front of him, looking up at him breathlessly, pleased with herself and the beautiful mess she’d made of him.

“Come here.” he whispered, and she crawled up until he could lean forward and kiss her, tasting the salt of himself in her mouth. Athos wriggled out from behind them, and sat on the edge of the bed, his own cock hard as a rock and begging for release again.

This was too much. How long would it go on? Athos crawled off the bed back onto the cold stone of the floor, stretching himself out. “Christ!” he swore as he started to palm himself again.

Aramis threw him an annoyed look and crossed himself.

“What?” Athos demanded, outraged. “You can fuck the Queen in a convent, but I can’t curse?”

Aramis cringed at the coarseness of expression, but it was probably appropriate for what they’d been doing. Desire was still coursing through him, like his blood was on fire. They must have been drugged, but by nuns?

“The soup?” he wondered out loud.

“No, the nuns ate it too.” Anne answered. “Surely they can’t be experiencing this?”

“The brandy, then?” Athos wondered. Yes, the brandy. That would explain why he was experiencing it more strongly than Anne and Aramis. They at least seemed to be able to catch their breath through waves of it. He’d drunk more of it, and Aramis had never been a heavy drinker. And the nuns didn’t drink at all.

“It’s grape and honey brandy,” said Aramis slowly, “exactly like my father used to make. Except…” he stopped.

“What?” demanded Athos, trying desperately to cool himself down by pressing himself on the cold floor, with no success whatsoever.

“… he never used to make it at this time of year. There was some flower whose pollen he said spoiled the honey, lead to strange side effects if you consumed it. An aphrodisiac, perhaps?”

“More than likely,” Athos groaned, “Perhaps compounded by the effects of distilling it into alcohol.”

“We should drink some water, then?” suggested Anne. “Dilute the effects?”

“That would be wise.” agreed Aramis, but neither one of them showed any desire to move, tangled as they were in each other’s arms and legs, his hand stroking her hair, and her fingers tracing the hard curves of the muscles in his chest, the desire slowly building in their veins again.

“I think it’s your turn to be restrained.” he murmured into Anne’s hair. Her eyes widened but she didn’t object, wondering what he had in mind, and Aramis fumbled on the floor for his belt, finding his shirt instead and using it to tie Anne’s hands to the bedhead.

“Oh God.” moaned Athos, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling, his hand closing round his cock again.

Remembering how the sound of his voice had enthralled her earlier, Aramis began to speak in Spanish, describing the things he wanted to do to her in detail, holding her gaze, but not touching her. She pulled experimentally against her restraints, but to no avail. Aramis smiled lazily at her, and kept talking, soft and low, starting to caress her with his left hand, while he propped himself up on his right elbow so he could watch her. He rans his finger lightly up and down the side of her body, finding the sensitive place in her side that made her breath stutter, returning there again and again, only to abandon the spot for several minutes at a time. He traced gentle circles over her right breast, first wide, then smaller, ever decreasing but always stopping just short of her nipple. But wherever his fingers stopped, his voice continued, a slow torture as Anne imagined the feel of his hand just there, where she wanted it.

“Turn over.” he said suddenly, catching her by surprise.

“What?”

“Turn over.” he commanded again, this time more firmly.

She wriggled over until she was lying face down on the bed. “Good girl,” he crooned, “beautiful girl.” He nuzzled at her ear, tracing the lines of her neck with his mouth, barely touching her, his hot breath and facial hair tickling against her skin in a way that sent shivers through her.

Athos watched, fascinated, as Aramis worked his way down her body, hot breath and wet mouth finding every sensitive place, blowing, suckling, nibbling at her skin, drawing gasps and shivers from Anne. Athos had never had this level of control, tending more towards the greedy and immediate fulfilment of his needs, and he began to appreciate why Aramis was never without a woman when he wanted one. He was an artist, striving for perfection and precision in this as he did in all things, whether it was firing a gun, cleaning it afterwards, or making love to a woman.

Aramis’s own need was plain to see, but he continued to tease Anne, ghosting kisses over her ass when he reached it, mouthing at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and then suddenly abandoning her there and starting to kiss her ankles and caress her calves, working his way slowly back up. Anne’s breath was ragged, her heart racing so fast Aramis could feel her skin tingling under his touch. Without warning he grabbed her calves and pushed her legs up beside her, forcing her into a crouch, positioning himself behind her, his dick pressed against her. She cried out at the suddenness of the change in position and the feeling of vulnerability it gave her, but Aramis hushed her.

From his position on the floor, Athos stopped palming himself, and watched, startled. He wasn’t going to? Surely not? Not with the Queen!

But that’s not what Aramis had in mind. He might be very flexible on what was acceptable behaviour with the Queen in a convent, but it stopped short of buggery, which in his mind was a sin far greater than adultery, even under the influence of whatever drug that was robbing him of reason. No, Aramis just wanted to tease Anne some more, wanted to feel her small breasts resting in his hands as he pressed against her from behind, wanted to dip his fingers between her legs and touch her while he slipped inside her. He pushed her up onto her elbows and knees and nuzzled at her neck and jaw encouraging her to turn her head to kiss him. He loved this angle, the awkward challenge of kissing her, only able to capture part of her lips, but the kiss all the sweeter for it.

Athos relaxed, relieved that Aramis still had some boundaries even if tonight had tested them all. He might never be able to get these images of Aramis and the Queen out of his mind, but at least that’s one he didn’t have to deal with. If they hung for this, and there was every chance they would when the drug wore off and Anne was thinking clearly, at least there’d be no charge of buggery. Treason was bad enough. I should stop this, he told himself for the hundredth time, for all our sakes, but he couldn’t. He sank back on the floor and resumed his stroking, praying that this would wear off soon.

Anne had never imagined the things Aramis was doing to her, and had certainly never imagined how much she’d enjoy them. She’d thought about this man so often, his beauty, his strength, the gentle way he spoke to her, the intensity of his gaze, but she’d never imagined anything like this. She felt incredibly vulnerable on her knees with her hands tied and Aramis pressing into her from behind, but she loved it. Loved the angle of his kisses, loved the feel of his fingers between her legs as he entered her. She felt drunk with desire for him (she was drunk, she reminded herself, or drugged anyway) but if felt completely right. She felt safe with him, she always had, secure in the knowledge that he would always protect her, always serve her, even now, like this. She found herself rocking back to meet his thrusts as he moved inside her.

Aramis felt like he was drowning in the feel of her, drunk on her. In the back of his mind, he heard Porthos’s voice “She’s not a woman, she’s the Queen.” but he pushed it out of his mind. Tonight she was _his_ Queen, and he was going to worship her for all he was worth. And if he hung for it, so be it. He leant forward to kiss her again and felt his control starting to slip.

He reached forward, fumbling with the knots restraining her, wanting to feel her hands on him again, and finally worked them free. Anne raised herself up on her hands, pushing back against him until she was kneeling upright, her ass resting on his thighs as he kneeled behind her, her back pressed to his chest. Aramis tightened his arms around her, massaging her breasts and kissing her deeply, rising up and letting her sink back on him, the angle enjoyable for both of them. He felt Anne’s fingers raking through his hair, pulling his face down to her neck, and he kissed and nibbled at the sensitive flesh there eliciting a delighted moan from Anne, and a sharp tug on his hair that had him panting into her mouth as he kissed her. Oh God. “Ana,” he moaned, barely coherent. “Aramis,” she whimpered as his fingers found their way between her legs again, and she went limp in his arms.

“Oh God!” Athos groaned, as he climaxed, “Forgive them. Forgive me.”

Aramis leaned forward, pushing Anne down onto the bed beneath them, his fingers still stroking her through her orgasm as it crashed around them. He laced the fingers of his other hand through hers, holding tight, all his weight on his elbow as he started to see stars, trying and failing to hold out just a little longer, shaking with release as he let himself go, spilling into Anne, her walls still pulsing around him as he stilled inside her. They lay there for a long moment, Aramis’s chest pressed to her back, his head resting on her shoulder until they caught their breath, and Anne twisted round beneath him, lips finding his, kissing him fiercely, hands on his neck and in his hair. “Aramis,” she murmured happily. “Ana,” he whispered like a prayer, rolling them over again and kissing her passionately.

Athos shook his head, sadly. He’ll hang for this, he thought. Not for sleeping with her, but for loving her. Because, as the effects of the drug slowly started to wear off for Athos and his lust ebbed, it became obvious that all it had done for Anne and Aramis was tear down the boundaries that had kept them apart, and what might have been lust a few hours ago, was now the love which had seemed impossible before.

Athos cursed himself for allowing this to happen. For letting Anne ride with Aramis, for not sending him back for help instead of Porthos. But even as he thought about what he could have done to prevent it, the inevitability of it asserted itself. From the moment Aramis had saved her in the chaos at the Châtelet which had prompted her gift to him (a gift that even now, the Queen was wrapping around her fingers as she smiled up at him) it was inevitable. The only thing that would ever satisfy Aramis was chasing a completely impossible dream, and the only way for Anne to find happiness was with a lover capable of believing anything was possible. There was a terrible simplicity and beauty to it, that Athos feared would be the ruin of them both.

He managed to drag himself up off the floor, and loosely fasten his pants, and with one last glance at the two lovers on the bed, now completely oblivious to his presence, left the room in search of water, and a place to rest.

* * *

 

As the last effects of the drug gradually wore off, reality began to return to Anne and Aramis. The loss of Isabelle started to sink in, and Aramis dragged himself away from Anne, sitting on the edge of the bed, hanging his head in shame. What kind of man so easily forgot the loss of a woman he’d once loved?

“She was right,” he muttered “she knew me better than I know myself.”

“You’re grieving.” Anne knelt behind him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

“She was right to stay from me.”

“No, Aramis. You are brave, and honourable, and kind, and…” she hesitated, unsure about speaking her presumption. “I am fortunate to be loved by you.”

She slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. Aramis sighed, taking one of her hands in his and kissing it, hanging on as though for dear life.

He hoped he was brave enough for this, for her, because this love would surely be the death of him.

* * *

 

The next morning, as they grimly prepared to resume their fight against the bandits, Aramis approached Athos. “About last night…” he began, awkwardly.

“Last night never happened, you understand? It never happened, and it will never happen again.”

Aramis scratched the back of his head. “It’s not that simple, Athos.”

“It has to be!” Athos hissed at him. “They’ll hang you, and then they’ll hang me for letting it happen.”

“More chance we’ll both die here and take it to our graves.”

“Well, that’s a comfort.”

Aramis didn’t move. “About the other thing…” he started.

“There was no other thing. It was the drug, that’s all. We weren’t ourselves.”

“So, we’re good?”

Athos nodded.

“I should get back, then.”

“Aramis, it can never happen again, you must know that.”

Aramis hesitated. “I think it’s too late to stop it.” he said seriously, as he slipped away, leaving Athos sighing in frustration, wondering why women always led to such trouble. Maybe Aramis was his penance. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always slightly uncomfortable writing sex scenes, so I tend to err towards the sensual and erotic rather than hardcore sexual. I prefer to leave something to the imagination rather than commit detailed descriptions of throbbing anatomy to paper! My apologies if you were hoping for references to large members, and quivering flesh, etc. please feel free to fill in the gaps if your imagination so desires! 
> 
> I find it hard to write out of established character (I enjoy the challenge / discipline of trying to keep my stories within character), so as Aramis never instigates with Anne in canon (he always follows her lead) I needed the sex pollen in the brandy to shake things up a bit. Athos gets off on it, hopefully you will too! ;-)


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